The Cat on the Stove
Solitude should be that meddlesome
Magical Nosy Aunty’s voice that sneaks
into your ear which is aching from some
Mean comment from a friend or the toxic
Office, to remind you of that packet of
Forgotten white pasta sauce in the fridge
And that one yellow capsicum and the
Cup of peas with two large tomatoes just
Waiting to turn into the pasta that you could
Cook, only the butter & cream cat has plonked
Down on the kitchen Stove, so you decide
To wail your woes to her instead, and the
Gruesome hour vanishes as the cat on the
Stove, certainly does not cook your pasta
For you, no way, but feeds you anyway with
The very expensive unaffordable unending
Well of innocence slathered with its walls
Of tenderness and Zen feasts and buns that only
your maddening cat on the stove can feed you!
Daksha Hathi
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